


Akihiko-centric Drabble Collection

by frogtan



Category: Persona 3
Genre: Drabble Collection
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-23
Updated: 2018-10-23
Packaged: 2019-08-06 08:06:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 1,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16384367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frogtan/pseuds/frogtan
Summary: Various drabbles written throughout the years.





	1. A Change

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place before P4A.

It’s time for an image change, and there’s no time like the present.

If he were to do what he’s about to while he attended Gekkoukan High, he’d be kicked out let alone face Mitsuru’s reign of terror. If a miracle occurred, he’d bet Odagiri would’ve had been on his ass daily.

Between him and the mirror is the sink as he brandishes an electric razor. Akihiko saw a hairdresser, but the sudden decision for the addition is what he’d rather do by his hand. 

The switch is on, he leans forward, and the buzzing gets louder, nearing his ear. He cautiously zips it over his cranium, recalling how other people done this and hoping the result would be alright (hair is hair; he never cared to fuss over his head when his body was the focus).

Light bundles of hair drop into the sink while he’s at work. It takes less than five minutes to seam a cross.

“Hmm.”

To someone who’s made himself accustomed to order, Akihiko finds this daring and expressive enough.


	2. Alone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> October 4th.

The tears won’t stop.

They’re bubbling into existence and streaming without consent. Akihiko didn’t expect legs buckling and dropping in a heap on hardwood floor, either. He’s held it in, even when he witnessed the limp body with everyone else, when he got blood on his hands. He shut emotions down before they surfaced to save face.

Only his hands were allowed to express grief.

He’s holding on again, knuckles turning white while he clings to bedsheets. The moon, bigger and yellow prior, acts no different with its faces, casting a light between curtains and blanketing over his heaving person to comfort.

The world is closed off, however. While he squeaks and snots, all Akihiko can think is that with another sibling gone, he’s truly alone on this planet now.


	3. Fit

Fresh from the bed, the doppelgänger in the mirror receives and gives scrutinization. The closed curtains’ white patterns nonetheless lightens the bedroom, also giving Akihiko’s form interesting lighting. ‘Nice’ is what his hum signifies – as he’s turned to one side with left arm raised, flexed. 

By the way, he’s shirtless.

Small changes are noted, as well as areas needing improvement, partially in aesthetics but definitely in muscle density. Akihiko imagines his being around peers and in front of opponents, recalls imagery of strong men in movies and magazines – to compare body differences but also gauge his strength.

Arms and legs: inspected. The dark hem of his red boxer briefs hugs his lower trunk (waist already squeezed), so after eyeing up and down a lean yet bumpy path known as his abs and turning slightly this way and that, now his focus lays on the chest. The finale. 

Akihiko again readjusts his posture straighter with shoulders rolling back. Not too robust, but perhaps it’s easy enough to tell that he’s an athlete (one is always their own worst critic) by the prominence of his sunken sternum in comparison to the rest of his hardened bust. But hey, one after the other a positioned upper arm tightens to watch how half his chest retaliates.

Pretty nicely so, if he so should decide – before loosening his limb while his bosom descends along like a pinch released on skin. What a feel good.

A final overall glance, then a blink, and Akihiko disconnects from his image. He inhales deeply, then bare feet pivot. There’s an unimportant shirt in wrinkle disarray waiting on the nearby chair. He begins to dress for his morning jog.


	4. Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written on Mother's Day.

With everything bigger than he was it felt as though he went far, but his own hesitance told him that probably wasn’t so. Although unaccustomed to being legally part of a family, Akihiko nonetheless felt it wrong to run away from home.

But… did it count if it didn’t felt like one?

It was odd all the same. He barely knew his step parents, but he already unknowingly worried worrying them even though that was what was supposed to happen when a child left without a word.

If they had caring parents, that was.

These were the types of parents Akihiko had, of course. He wouldn’t be here, otherwise. Miki should had been here too. He sat against a tree with knees to his chest. He shouldn’t be doing this… at least for her.

Yet that didn’t feel right, either.

Why should he be welcomed into a family when he couldn’t save his sister? He didn’t deserve fortune, didn’t know how to adjust to this kind of life. If only Shinji was here to cheer him up or even scold him. Hah, things would be better if they were stepbrothers.

But no… this was the very definition of a personal matter. Something Akihiko had to deal with on his own. He was starting to learn. Unfortunately, his first reaction to unfamiliarity was to flee. He knew running away wouldn’t fix anything. It wouldn’t be the right thing to do after all. There came a pang to his chest.

He was still that pathetic boy from orphanage, huh?

Defeated, slowly he rose on heavy legs and turned to where he came from. His mind was a daze the walk back, as if he was turning himself in.

“Akihiko?”

He peered up from grass to find the reality that his mom was, in fact, searching for him.

The guilt became overbearing— his hands were brought to his eyes, unable to restrain from sobbing. Already he punished himself and expected more yet the warmth of two arms snuck around him. They knew full well he was just a child, a quiet one at that. He had a history before sent to a completely different establishment with people older than him. With a new surname to take on from here on out. Akihiko couldn’t put it into words.

She accepted him all the same, tears and all. In time she’ll find more about him to love.

“I’m so glad you’re back home safe and sound.”

These are the very same words his mother says once he returns from an impromptu travel around the world. He’s always off doing his own thing. Too often she finds herself worrying over her only son, supporting him the best she could. Akihiko, now taller than her, holds her in return, a rejuvenated sense of purpose surging through his protective physique that he’s sure she could be proud of him, finally.

“I’m happy to be home.”


	5. Noodle

Akihiko hitched the stairs to his bedroom, slid the chair at the desk over to himself before plopping down and settling in. The cup of ramen he’s had prior prepped him for the evening to cracking open text and notebooks. Hoo boy.

Not to worry. Eventually he figured out these ten long problems. By then he broke out of his absorption – a trait he was astonishing good at – and no longer was he in a world of numbers and pencil lead scratching across blue lines.

A hunched spine unfolded into the back cushion with one arm outstretched above his head as the other pulled. His voice strained a complacent hum deep in his throat while this happened with shut eyes. Perhaps this was the time for a break?

After recollecting his breath, eyelids drew apart, and in that moment his downward gaze met with a long, delectable string embedded to his chest.

O-oh.

H-how did he miss dropping this?

At least nobody was around to see him parading around with a noodle… Akihiko shrugged this off before switching to curiosity. His left hand (dirtied with lead smears) peeled it off, and he peered at it a few moments. He decided exactly once his mouth opened and engulfed the loot. 

– And there you go. Sanada-senpai’s dirty little secret. The girls at school would have had definitely swooned.

( It tasted miraculous, by the way. )


	6. Pure

A little human burrito huddles near and dear his chest. The baby’s almost a foreign object to Akihiko, whose intrigued eyes peer downward with pursed lips as if making any noise would shatter the child. He may be around two decades older, but the tender scene paints both pure.

The baby is comfortably curled up. Their heavy, peach-colored head bears a serene expression; Akihiko realizes he’s tenser than the other, so he loosens up – but not in the way he’d drop them, mind you. Remembering doing this when he was much younger, when he used to have a sister (when he used to be inexperienced and clumsy and weak) helps. However, the memory, although barely touched upon, provides even his arms melancholy ambience as they slightly lower away from him.

It’s likely that small hand reaching upward senses this. Akihiko’s head curiously bows, a mistake on his part; soon his nose is under seize by those pudgy fingers. He squeaks. The tip of his nose is not only an activated switch for flushed skin but also mood change.

But don’t worry: once more will he soon breathe and laugh.


	7. Soon

It would be pretty damn nice if he could fight soon.

Like today-soon.

Alas, still in a sling and a torso wrapped in bandages, his body obviously deems this unacceptable. His doctor agrees. Akihiko sighs as the other man temporarily leaves the room, and he’s left waiting on the exam table with an air of defeat.

It’s moments like this that’s downright frustrating. It’s the last thing he wants: being weak and useless in plain sight. Every day tests his patience.

Not even a drawn curtain showcasing the sunny view outside can mitigate this restless feeling. He’s done enough loafing like this at the dorm. He wants to participate in it. Outside, in the ring, inside Tartarus.

Akihiko stares down polished flooring, attempting avoiding looking over his sorry state. But he can’t avoid it. The thought of regressing remains to scare him. With one arm helplessly latched closely, he fails to see how this is any different than the time he was held back from that burning building.

Damn it.


	8. Wasted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Post-P4AU.

Kurosawa is to blame for the sack of potatoes slouched over the counter. It’s not a dead body, but rather a drowsy Akihiko after an intake of heavy alcohol in an encouraged attempt to experiment. He who was normally poised and focused is now in a state of fuzziness buried into folded arms. If he’s not dozing, he’d be in a state of regret.

Next thing Kurosawa knows is having to escort his apprentice to his car and driving him home. That is, after giving Aigis a call so she wouldn’t worry. Geez. Since when did he adopt this welterweight of a responsibility?


	9. Bright Child

Tiny fists cling so closely to his face a knuckle inserts into his wet mouth. He’s mum now, but a few minutes ago he needed comfort. It’s simple to tell what’s wrong when he’s fussy, and it’s easy to calm him down. Or at least to his mommy they are.

Akihiko watches her with big, blinking eyes. Those eyelashes of his don’t make him less endearing in the least. There is a smear – food – on his chubby cheek, and when her thumb massages it off, he emits a meek noise. Thankfully, he didn’t make a mess to the point even his big forehead and tuft of light hair got caught in the crossfire; sometimes Akihiko can be playful to that degree.

She plants a smooch above his brow to convey that he’s a good child. He brightens.


End file.
